


Rakuyou (落葉)

by insightful_username



Series: Fluttering Leaves [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Drinking, Heavy Angst, M/M, References to Depression, Sad, it technically has a suspenseful ending, tried to make this as unnecessarily long as possible, youngjae's there for like two seconds, yugyeom and bambam are trapped in an abyss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:55:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insightful_username/pseuds/insightful_username
Summary: “I’m going back to sleep, please just… don’t talk about me, so openly especially,” the Hong Kong native spoke in a now flat, deadpan tone. He retreated back into his apartment, the door quietly closing just as he closed himself off.The trio didn’t speak. They stood still, as if to count the minutes after Jackson left. They all felt excruciatingly long, like the next minute might not arrive.Jinyoung spoke first, “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to cause such harm.”





	Rakuyou (落葉)

**Author's Note:**

> an unnecessary amount of trepidation along with language someone pretending to be florid and garish would write. i hope this didn't turn out too terribly. also happy summer break for all my northern hemispherers(?), or at least most americans. anyway, since it's still technically spring as according to the calendar, i wanted to post my autumn related story.

  


Mark seemed well, his pale skin glittering from the sun that shines through the falling leaves. His eyes were wide, a small smile gracing his countenance. The boy blushed, momentarily while looking away from Jackson.

 

“Hey,” Jackson mumbled, breaking their pregnant silence.

 

Mark smiled, taking in a deep breath, “Jackson.”

 

Another silence dawned on the two, as if they hadn't had anything to catch up on with each other. Jackson wanted to believe he was both sociable and amiable enough to keep their conversation somewhat alive, “It’s been a while, hasn't it?”

 

The redhead, who's hair color had faded, nodded. He looked to be hesitant, as if he wanted to speak but without the knowledge on how to, “I'm sorry, Jack.”

 

Jackson coughed, suddenly aware of his faults, “Why? I forced you into this situation.”

 

“I-I don't know. I've been meaning to tell you this for a while. And I don't know if it's because I haven't seen you in a while, but I really need to get this off my chest, “ Mark’s soft voice grew louder yet more self-conscious, “I had originally wanted to become friends with you just to get this… this guilt off of me, but it kept... attacking me, and I don't know what to do..”

 

“Mark. I don't know why you're so guilty. You've already apologized plenty. I… don't care if you wanted some kind of… remediation for your actions in the past.”

 

The older boy blushed further, his cheeks now almost a pink-coralish color. His lips twitched, as if he were tempted to argue with Jackson.

 

Mark then gave up, attempting to spark a casual conversation, “I-it’s, like… your autumn break for you, right?”

 

“Yeah, but you didn't miss too much. Are you going back to university?” Jackson asked, inching closer to Mark.

 

“I probably should,” Mark hummed in question, “I don't know, I might return to school during spring admissions.”

 

“It might be possible for you to transfer back after our first semester ends.”

 

Mark shrugged, looking down to the leaf-infested waters. A thin layer of algae floating on top of the water.

 

“So, y’wanna go back to your home?” Jackson added offhandedly.

 

“Can I… just stay at your home?” Mark asked after being silent after another short moment.

 

“Yeah, sure. Come on?” Jackson asked hesitantly.

  
  


The two boarded onto Jackson’s car, reminding Mark of their short summer together. The Taiwanese-American male cringed, his hand feeling the back of his head.

 

They drove over to Jackson’s home, a large building greeting the older male. It contrasted Mark’s worn-down and dirtied apartment. It was a calm, a sand-like color bathing the building with textured bricks.

 

“Wait… you d-don't live in a dorm?” Mark began, his voice shaking.  

 

“No, but I room with three other boys. Remember Jaebum and BamBam? Them and another boy. Is that good?” Jackson asked calmly.

 

“Y-yeah, it sounds g-g-good.”

 

Jackson led the slightly taller male inside his flat, giving a short warning to Mark before shouting, “Yo! Any of y’all home?”

 

Mark winced, an acute pain running to his previous injury. He buried his head into his scarf, scrunching his nose.

 

Another voice responded in slightly accented English , much quieter than Jackson’s, “What the actual fuck, Jackson?”

 

“Oh hey,” Jackson said casually, as if he hadn't just shouted unnecessarily loudly.

 

“Who’s this?” the boy asked, nodding over to Mark.

 

“That's my friend from primary school,” the Hong Kong native stated, wrapping an arm around Mark.

 

“Cut the crap, I knew you from primary school,” the boy rolled his eyes, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. His eyes then widened, “Oh shit, you're that kid that used to pick on Jacks, right?”

 

“Youngjae, what the hell? Calm the fuck down,” Jackson grunted.

 

Mark stood awkwardly at the doorway, attempting to sneak out from Jackson’s grasp.

 

“Fine, alright. This is Mark, the kid that went to my school back in elementary school, and yeah, he… picked on me, but I forgave him. And Mark,” Jackson dragged Mark even closer, pulling him inside, “this is, y’know, Youngjae. He was my penpal just after I transferred out of our elementary school. And I don’t even know why we’ve kept in touch.”

 

Youngjae eyed Mark down carefully before he smiled, “Nice to meet you.”

 

Mark shook the younger boy’s hand. He inched back, as if to run off. But he didn't and entered. The flat much more spacious than his own apartment, yet he still felt claustrophobic.

  


Mark stayed in Jackson’s apartment for a night, sneaking out just as the sun filtered through the windows and over the skyline. He exited the building, noticing he was near the field where they watched the fireworks on Independence Day.

 

He made his way back to his apartment, greeted by an odd odor. The cause, he presumed, equated to nothing more than the lack of occupancy in his home, and for months too.

 

Yet everything was where he left it. The cup of ramen noodles still sitting on his little table. His shoes thrown messily around his doorway, and his bed still undone. He pulled out the collapsible chair that laid in the corner of the room and sat down.

 

The world around him was unbelievably bright and somewhat cold, even just as the sun had risen. The familiar green of the leaves had fallen to barren trees and rotting leaves on the ground.

 

The dried leaves reminded Mark of Jackson’s apparent depression. The crinkled leaves crushed under the tires of passing cars. He shook his head, reminding himself to contact Jackson once it had become of a reasonable hour to contact the man.

 

Mark checked his pantry, the dreariness having washed from him after a months long slumber. He couldn't go back to sleep even if he tried. But the day continued on, slowly but surely.

  


Mark left his home after the clock struck seven. His apartment felt drafty and cramped; he couldn't stand it. He kicked at the leaves on the ground. The soles of his sneakers shifted around, bunching up at his toes.

 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, showing that Jackson was calling him.

 

He answered the call, taking a deep breath before he spoke, “H-hey?”

 

“Mark, where'd you go?” Jackson asked, his voice shaking.

 

“I… woke up earlier so I guess I just,” he hummed, thinking, “left.”

 

“I meant to do something yesterday. Wanna meet up… at the bridge?” Jackson asked casually.

 

“Yeah, when?” Mark asked.

 

“I'll see you in fifteen?” Jackson concluded, saying a quick goodbye before hanging up.

 

Mark looked at his phone, idling in the middle of the sidewalk. He ignored the rumbling of his stomach, walking over to the park he was familiar with.

 

He groaned, the leaves continuously reminding him of what he wanted to ask Jackson. His hands rested in his pockets, grasping at the keys and trash that continually remained in the pocket of his sweatpants.

 

Jackson showed up just minutes after Mark did. Mark noticed the boy’s brown hair and thin layer of uneven stubble. He looked much skinnier than before. Much more unkempt that Mark remembered

 

Leaves fell in front of Mark, reminding him once more. He let out a shaky breath, gathering the confidence to look up at Jackson, “Are you depressed?”

 

Said man blinked, confusion written over his visage. He let out a small, sad laugh, “I don't even know anymore.”

 

Mark knew he was bad at reading people’s faces, yet the emptiness was so clear on Jackson’s countenance. His bright eyes lacked the clarity they had before. Mark frowned, “Jack…”

 

“I don't know, I guess I am,” Jackson admitted, running his right hand through his hair, “I… I am, okay? Why..?”

 

Mark threw the hood of his hoodie over his head, curling up against the rail of the bridge, “I'm worried, after all, last I saw you, you were about to jump from a fucking bridge.”

 

Jackson laughed, “True, true.”

 

Mark hummed in an open tone, “I… don't want you to get hurt. Please, Jack.”

 

The American man blushed, hiding his head onto his knees. He was somehow embarrassed, groaning.

 

“What’s wrong..?” Jackson asked, worried.

 

The Los Angeles native stood up carefully, staring at the crushed leaves below him, “I'm just… worried,” Mark rubbed at his arm, still remembering the cuts from his past.

 

The slightly shorter boy let out a laugh, “You're awfully concerned about me for someone who's just woken up from a coma.”

 

“Shut up,” Mark said, blushing profusely.

  
  


Another month passed before Mark was able to see Jackson again. He managed to land a part time job at the convenience store he often frequented when he'd run out of food, despite his obvious unprofessionalism.

 

Slowly, he became accustomed to the “regulars” of the store. The occasional petty customer that wanted a refund for something that had already been half-eaten, the very obviously underage children attempting to buy cigarettes or alcohol, and the people that liked to loiter as if they were being cool.

 

But the moment Jackson entered the store, Mark felt a wave of both relief and anxiety. He panicked, ducking under the counter as if Jackson wouldn't be able to him from where he was.

 

Being surprisingly keen, Jackson found his hiding spot almost immediately.

 

“Mark, are you trying to take a shit down there?” Jackson inquired in a blasé tone.

 

“What?” Mark asked, standing up as he threw a small box of some odd trinket onto the counter, faking that he had been working, “Why the hell would I do that anyway? I mean I'd have to clean it up anyway.”

 

Jackson let out a laugh, running a hand through his dark brown hair, “Fair point. No, but how are you?”

 

“Well, I…,” Mark laughed, “got a job, as you can tell.”

 

“Really, I thought you just hopped the counter just to, I dunno, get a slushy and hot dog for a reduced price.”

 

“I said I was poor, not desperate,” Mark sighed, laughing shortly.

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“Anyway, so how’s school?” Mark asked, not wanting the store to fall into a silence where the only noise was a slight squeaking of sneakers on the ground from his light kicks at it and the droning of the freezers.

 

“Oh yeah, nothing’s really happened. We began some stupid little projects, but winter break is just about to start anyway.”

 

Mark nodded, leaning against the counter as if a sudden vertigo had taken over his senses. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before standing up straight.

 

“It's just about my break time,” Mark muttered, staring intently at the clock just a few inches above the slushy machines.

 

“Great, then let’s go to the bridge again?” Jackson asked, walking over to a shelf which held some snacks and picked out a protein bar and a small pack of chips, “But first, how ‘bout you ring me up first?”

 

Mark rolled his eyes, scanning the items anyway despite his lunch break having started a whole minute ago.

  


The arrived at the bridge they often frequented, settling down as they looked down at the leaf-filled water. The surprisingly calm waters were the only thing that separated his last occurrence with a much higher bridge apart.

  


_Mark was hunched over the rails of a metal bridge, the cold metal biting at his uncovered skin. He shivered when a cold wind blew past him, looking down at the rushing waves below him. They sounded loud and clear against the fuzziness of his head._

 

_He remembered attempting to jump just a few months ago and his mother heavily berating him. Yet he was back at the same bridge, in his pajamas, at one in the morning._

 

_He got up on top of the railing again, glimpsing through his memory, reminding himself of how rude he was as a kid._

  


Mark snapped from his thoughts, picking up his phone from his uniform pockets. He groaned as he stood, staring lazily to Jackson.

 

“Jack, what’s wrong?” His voice sounded awkward, even just as a breeze carried his voice along with a few fallen leaves. The Hong Kong native smiled, letting out a hollow laugh.

 

“I'm so fucking tired. I just want to go home,” Jackson muttered, placing his head into his hands. He gave Mark a small laugh again.

 

“You're going on break soon, right?” Mark began, asking a stupidly rhetorical question, “Why not go then?”

 

“Yeah, I am, but what about the ‘broke college student’ life?” Jackson laughed again, removing a single hand from his face. He breathed in, his breathing still shaking as if he were still chuckling.

 

Mark pretended to rub at an imaginary beard, “How ‘bout I lend you some of my money so you can fly over?”

 

“I couldn't,” Jackson said, his voice trailing off just as another breeze carried more leaves from the trees. He shivered.

 

Mark nodded looking up at the almost completely barren branches. He closed his eyes, sighing, “I gotta dip soon. If my manager finds I've been out for too long, he’s gonna be pissed.”

 

Jackson shrugged in response, his eyes boring into the fish that swam in a small circle just a few feet in front of the bridge. His hands reached his ears, as if to feel for his hearing aids. Mark stared at Jackson in an enthralled curiosity. The latter returned Mark’s stare, an eyebrow raising in bewilderment. He spoke softly, “What? I thought you were leaving?”

 

“I-I was, but I meant later,” Mark mumbled.

 

Jackson shrugged, giving Mark a short apology before removing his hands from his ears, a light blush dusting his cheeks. His lips twitched, trembling as if he were unsure of what he should say afterward.

 

Mark coughed, the tips of his ears turning a light rose color, “I'm sorry, Jack.”

 

“You don't need to apologize, just, I’ll see you later,” Jackson gave Mark a small pat on his shoulder, trudging slowly away from him.

 

“Jeez, no need to be belligerent,” Mark quipped after his friend, the male leaving him like he had just a few months ago.

  


~~

  


Despite autumn usually feeling fairly short, Mark felt the weeks drag on.

 

It was late at night on a Monday. Rain poured from the sky, the ground having been stained with what felt like millions to billions of the water droplets. He let out a sigh, watching the light panel just above him flicker before it suddenly went out.

 

He felt oddly jittery, as if he were stranded in the small store, alone. But he told himself if an apocalypse were to dawn suddenly on them, he'd be very safe, so long as he boarded up the doors.

 

His daydream about a hypothetical apocalypse was cut short when a man, wearing what seemed like a mix between what the high school emos would only dream to wear and a punk-esque tinge dashed in for effects. He was oddly intimidated by the man.

 

“No need to look so startled, dude,” The man spoke in an eerily monotonous and calm voice, “Anyway, howzit?”

 

Mark blinked in response, his words escaping him, “Hi?”

 

The man sluggishly—in a manner similar to how an intoxicated person would move—limped over to the back, the noise of the slushy machine whirring for just about a second or two at a time, pausing, then beginning again. He reappeared seconds later with a pack of some odd store-exclusive gum and a colorful slushy.

 

The man sighed, leaning heavily onto the counter, “Look, dude. A friend of mine asked me to check on some kid named Mark that works here for another friend.”

 

Mark lifted a single eyebrow, suddenly paranoid. He felt a shiver go down his spine, still somewhat intimidated by the man, “And?”

 

“Yeah, so how ya doin’?” The short man spoke casually, his accent slightly mimicking Ebonics mixed with a tinge of a poorly done southern accent.

 

Mark shrugged, he spoke, scanning the gum and punching in the code for the slushy, “Jackson, right?”

 

“Yeah,” the boy put five dollars onto the counter, sitting down onto the same surface, “Anyway, it’s fucking pouring out there, so I'm campin’ it out in here.”

 

Mark took note of the man’s dripping hoodie and mess of metal combined with a draping green waterproof fabric, “What the fuck happened?”

 

“My pal asked me to go out like,” the man took his phone out, “five hours ago. And long story short, even though I had an umbrella, this cum-stain of an umbrella broke the moment I took it out. And now here I am.”

 

“As great as cum stains are, we sell umbrellas here.”

 

The man eyed Mark suspiciously, “What the hell, you wanna take me on a date before you drive me out?”

 

Mark sighed, clicking his tongue, “That's not… what I meant. I'm sorry.”

 

The boy clad in mostly black smiled, his gums peeking from under his teeth. He shook his head lazily, “No, I'm sorry. Did I intimidate you or something?”

 

Mark blushed, coughing as he leaned heavily over the counter, “M-maybe. But…. I—you know my name, but what’s yours?”

 

“Oh yeah, Yoongi.”

 

Mark nodded, a minute silence dawning over the two. He kicked upwards, walking over to the other side of the counter, “You might want to be careful. If you break anything, I-I'll have to— I'd get fired.”

 

“Right, sorry, dude,” Yoongi said, looking out the door as if to check if it was still pouring rain.

 

“It doesn't look like the rain will cease at any point,” Mark squinted at the clock at the back of the store, “Plus, it’s getting late.”

 

Yoongi took his phone out, letting out a bitter laugh, “S’dead.”

 

Mark clicked his tongue, and he coughed, “You want to use a charger?”

 

“I literally have an old phone that I found at some junky underground store, so it’s probably too old for these stupid ass chargers.”

 

The Californian male made his way towards the door, as if to check if the sky was ever going to clear up. He sighed, “I’d give you a ride, but I don't have a car… How ‘bout I let you call someone on my phone,” he hummed.

 

Mark leaned over the counter as he watched the male type in a number, placing the device over his ear. He placed his head into his hands, feeling the fabric of his sweater drape over him like a blanket. He'd certainly hoped he would get home earlier, just before it was predicted to have rained, but it had been too late. The rain had come earlier than expected, pouring over them. He didn't mind too badly, he'd just get a rain poncho from the store anyway.

 

He could barely hear Yoongi’s murmured voice over the pounding rain and the whirring machinery of the store. It felt cold, not just because of the cold seeping in from the outside, but because of the situation he was in; he was still scared.

 

He shivered, looking towards where Yoongi had went. The male was still chatting away as he looked around in the small section where energy drinks lay in rows. His mind drifted to Jackson, wondering why he'd sent him friend’s friend to check up on him. After all, he knew how bad Mark was at talking to new people.

 

Mark took in a deep breath, exhaling shakily. He managed to regain control over his still tremulous voice, “Yoongi. Are you done?” His voice pierced the air with a thin tone.

 

Said boy looked back at the boy, remembering he still had Mark’s phone, “Holy shit, dude. My ride’s coming. How ‘bout you?”

 

Mark couldn't help but to suspect the of committing some iniquity. He shrugged, “I don't have one..?”

 

“My ride can drop you off, come on.”

 

Mark shook his head, “No, my house is honestly just around the corner. It's fine.”

  


He stood out in the pouring rain, rain poncho draped lazily over his head. He watched Yoongi get in the familiar car. He recognized it as Jackson’s beat-up black car, but hesitated to take up the offer for a ride. After all, he didn't want the boy to see his home, or even apartment complex.

 

Armed with a cheap rainbow umbrella and thin yellow rain poncho, he made his way home. His phone rang halfway through his walk, “Hello?” He shivered, the rain beating his face like hail. He hoped his tremulous voice didn’t show over the phone.

 

He heard the droning whir of an engine as tires subtly bounced over the small divots in the asphalt. He counted, ten counts, before anyone spoke, “Mark? Are you home yet?”

 

It was Jackson’s voice, oddly calm and soft. His voice carried a light rasp, careful about what he’d say. He paused again, the sound of the car stopping right before the opening of the car door, “I’m sorry, you aren’t home yet?”

 

Mark breathed in, stopping just by a bus station, the small shelter just barely keeping him dry. He winced when he hears the plastic of his rain poncho crinkle, “Jackson? Why are you calling me?”

 

“Jeez, I can’t call a pal?” Mark felt oddly touched that Jackson would think of him even after their lack of contact for a good month or so. He didn’t want to admit he was blushing because of the male, telling himself he was embarrassed.

 

“That— you know that’s not what I meant. It’s just… I wanted to ask you why, since you were busy with Yoongi and what not.”

 

“What? He lives like just down the road from that shop. But anyway, as I’ve asked, like, twice now, are you home?”

 

Mark exclaimed with surprise, “Really?”

 

“Yeah, now where are you?” Jackson’s words sounded choppy, which may have been either the cause of his slight accent or the quality of his voice over the phone. It made Mark nervous.

 

“No, it’s fine. I’m just about home,” Mark muttered, stepping into his apartment complex, “Sorry, could you wait a little?”

 

Mark set his audio on mute, shedding off the poncho like a snake molting its skin off. He wrapped it in a ball, curling it under his armpit, and unmuted his phone. Jackson’s voice startled him, “Oh, I can hear your end of the call now!”

 

The American male walked up to his house, his phone resting just over his shoulder.

 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Jackson asked, his tone resembling the saccharine, whiny tone of a clingy girl.

 

“Let’s talk another time,” Mark mustered up over Jackson, “At least when it doesn’t feel like I’m being pelted by small rocks.”

 

“Jesus, and I thought _I_ was over dramatic,” Jackson laughed, the noise ringing in Mark’s ears. Mark coughed, blushing as he tossed his poncho into the garbage bin, setting the sopping wet umbrella onto the ground in front of his door.

 

“I know, I know. But I’d rather not catch the plague today, so see you later?”

 

Jackson’s laugh, while still carrying the same high-pitched lilt, sounded more hollow and more humorless than usual, “Whatever, I'll see you soon.”

 

Mark felt bad.

  


~~

  


They met each other at the bridge the day following what resembled a tempest. Mark was still cautious, studying Jackson like a scientist to their test subject. He cringed internally, is mind drifting back to his rudeness as a child. Even when Jackson continuously stated that he forgave Mark, the latter was still hesitant to show Jackson more sides of him.

 

They stayed silent, just about a minute according how long Mark had been counting. He took in a breath, a soft noise emitting from the back of his throat in a nearly whiny manner, “How have you been holding up?”

 

Jackson remained silent, watching the leaves blow past them. They heard the noises of dry leaves rubbing against each other, “It’s been nice.”

 

Mark let out a laugh, giggling under the awkwardness that settled around them. He cleared his throat, “I—You… Look, I’m still sorry if I prodded too hard on if you were depressed or not, but I was—no, I still am worried about you.”

 

“Mark, I’m not angry… far from it, actually. I like you, a lot, and I’d hate to see one of my closest friend leave me,” Jackson spoke out, his voice carrying an oddly grave tone.

 

The American male sighed, forcing a small smile on his face over the blush he had. He looked down, at his old pair of converse.

 

\--

 

_The same small, short student that had moved in just after their spring break was back in class, his head hung low over his notebook as he concentrated on the teacher._

 

_From Mark’s memory, he remembered the boy’s birthday was over the break, and was eagerly awaiting someone to go up to him and ask him about it. Yet the slightly older American male felt oddly sinister. Mark managed to spread the rumor that the Hong Kong native had only faked his hearing impairment for attention._

 

_It worked, somehow. Mark saw how the kid’s face lit up when someone drew near just to be let down person after person. Mark let the pit in his stomach sink further, watching to poor boy get tormented._

 

_He caught a glimpse of silver and a nude color flying his direction. Not wanting to be assaulted by a mildly fast, possibly metal object, his hands wrapped around it, warmth radiating into his cold hands._

 

_He looked at the oddly-shaped piece of machinery before he looked up in the direction it flew from._

 

_“Mark! Toss it out! It’s his!” A boy from Mark’s class shouted over the other clutter in their classroom. Mark took another glimpse at the bullied kid, having to remind himself that the kid deserved it, and tossed out the window he stood next to._

 

_Mark watched the kid run out, probably crying. He hated seeing it, yet he couldn’t keep his eyes off._

 

\--

 

The older male inhaled shakily, moving his eyes over to Jackson. He cringed when he noticed how much more awkward they were in person than when they were in phone call.

 

“Let’s go somewhere else?” He murmured, barely loud enough to be heard by anyone. His statement came out more like a question, his tone rising slightly at the end of the sentence.

 

Jackson looked at him, mustering up a grin that looked just slightly too wide and fake for Mark’s taste. But the boy ignored it for the time being, mustering his own smile on his face, despite it being extremely hypocritical. He ignored the red burning on his cheeks, taking Jackson’s hand in his own.

 

He led Jackson further and further, as if he’d known where he had been going. Slowly but surely, he found an odd opening in the midst of a forest of barren trees. They went up, further and further, just to see a small opening at the top.

 

Mark let go of Jackson, looking over the top of the rocky hill they stood on. He took in a shuddering breath before he turned back to Jackson. The man was silent, oddly so. Mark looked expectantly at the male, as if he needed to hear Jackson’s voice as a form of validation.

 

“Do you… want to talk about something?” Mark asked.

 

Jackson walked over, just to the edge of the nearly cliff-like peak of the hill, and sat down. He laid his head back, his eyes drifting over to Mark’s figure. His voice was barely above a whisper, “Yeah”

 

Mark nodded, sitting down next to Jackson.

 

“I’ve been thinking for a while now… is it wrong that I like guys?” Jackson asked, to which Mark shook his head, prompting Jackson to speak more, “I don’t know, I guess I’ve been down in the dumps ‘cause of that.”

 

The American male hugged his knees to his chest, resting his head over it, “Did something happen?”

 

Jackson shrugged, placing his hands behind his head, a yawn cascading from his mouth. He shut his eyes, and sighed. It made Mark want to kill his younger self for dozing off every health class when the teachers explained what to do in this situation. But he laid down next to Jackson, his head making contact with the rocky floor as they lay, their position reminiscent of a famous scene in The Fault in Our Stars.

 

Mark rubbed his hands on his pants, which then found a spot at the hems of his shirt. He heard a few geese call out in the distance, noticing how the buzz of cicadas in the summer had died off into the more mellow sound of cars making their daily commute out and about in the city.

 

“So,” Jackson began after a moment of contemplation, “what’re you going to do before you go back to college?”

 

“I dunno, I’ll probably just stay home or something.”

 

Jackson was silent again, just a bit longer than before, “Can I take you up on that offer? To go to China?”

 

Mark sat up abruptly, “Sure, d-do you want me to go along, or..?”

 

The Hong Kong native sat up with Mark, “Yeah, please? I-I don’t know if it’s too much to ask, but please?”

 

Mark nodded, “Yeah, okay. Winter break, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

  


~~

  


Mark was surprised to see Jackson in the store in which he worked once more. Mark craned his neck to see Jackson, seeing the man browse through the section with energy drinks.

 

He noticed Jackson’s façade wear thin as he sluggishly walked to the counter. Jackson gave him a small, toothless smile and wordlessly put a pack of energy drinks onto the counter. Mark understood Jackson wasn’t in a great mood, scanning the drinks.

 

“Here, how ‘bout I give you this for free?” Mark managed to speak over the thick air around them. He let out a small laugh, which did nothing to cut through the tension, “Y’know, as in that discount thing you asked me about?”

 

Mark inhaled shakily, noticing an odd pungent smell eliciting from Jackson. Jackson looked faint, moving in a dizzying fashion. If Mark was barely old enough to drink, there was no way Jackson was. Jackson stumbled toward the counter, coughing as if he were gagging.

 

“Jesus, Jack,” Mark sputtered out, jumping over the counter while attempting not to knock anything over. He led Jackson outside, to a nearby alley in case the male vomited in the store. It came, eventually, even if it appeared to be mostly a dry heave.

 

Mark cringed, sneaking a quick glance at the convenience store. The noise of stifled gagging reverberated through the alley. He saw pedestrians walk by, pitifully looking at the spectacle that unfolded. Mark felt his face flush, pulling Jackson up after he finished emptying most of his stomach’s contents onto the ground.

 

“I…” Jackson muttered, his face flushed with the infamous Asian Glow. Mark looked back at the younger male, a muddled expression gracing his face. Jackson spoke clumsily, “I love you!”

 

Mark knew he shouldn’t have felt something, especially knowing the younger man’s condition, yet he felt his heart race. Mark wrapped his tenuous arm around Jackson, almost carrying the boy into the store. Jackson returned to silence after they regressed back inside.

 

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mark began, just wanting something to take the place of the constant drone of the freezers, “I-I want to help you, but I don’t know if I can a-as of right now.”

 

Jackson looked into Mark’s eyes, almost glaring at the man. Mark flushed, his skin heating up. Jackson was close, a mere few inches from Mark’s face. A nervous giggle bubbled from Mark’s lips as he attempted to push Jackson away, despite him wanting Jackson nearer. The American male pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind, concern flooding his already fidgeting figure.

 

Mark let out a small grunt when Jackson fell onto his shoulder, his warm breath hitting Mark from what seemed to be just an inch apart. The older male could barely grasp the breath he so desperately needed. He grew more and more panicked at the prospect of his boss, or anyone for that matter, catching them in their situation.

 

“Do… you have anyone that can pick you up?” Mark asked despite it feeling as if he were talking to a wall. The only response was a short incoherent babble. Mark tutted, leaning back toward the counter as Jackson’s head fell into his lap.

 

Jackson’s tan hearing aids were nowhere to be found, even as Mark turned the nearly incapacitated Jackson’s to find there wasn’t a single hearing aid in either ear.

 

“I’m going to take you home,” Mark mumbled to himself, calling his boss to inform the authoritative figure of his situation.

 

Mark had to stick it up and practically drag Jackson back to his home. He made a mental note to work out.

 

~~

 

Jackson woke up again surprisingly quickly. He was startlingly sober, albeit slightly disoriented.

 

“Hey, sorry for the shitty condition of my apartment. But I couldn’t leave you on the street,” Mark decided to say, his hands moving to his words. Though he was still self-conscious about his home.

 

The Hong Kong native beamed, clearly surprised at Mark for showing him his house. He was oddly effulgent despite his condition. Mark gave Jackson a close-mouthed smile, “I didn’t know what you’d… like, s-so I made some instant ramen,” Mark felt awkward speaking to himself, especially when he felt oddly uncomfortable around Jackson.

 

“Thanks,” Jackson sounded out carefully, pushing himself to a more comfortable position on the small loveseat. The blanket that was laid over him fell into his lap, so Jackson opted to putting the burning cup of curly noodles into a nest made from the blanket.

 

The slurping of them eating ramen noodles served as the only noise in the palpable silence. It wasn’t like either of them minded it, though. It was peaceful for Mark, yet perfectly ordinary for Jackson.

 

Halfway through Mark’s eating, he remembered the drinks Jackson was attempting to buy. He tugged at Jackson’s sleeve, making the boy jerk his hand, sending his chopsticks across the room. Mark made a mental note to clean it up after their hanging out.

 

“Jackson, your e-energy drinks are on,” he used an all too familiar interjection, pausing for a brief moment before regaining the momentum in his sentence, “the kitchen counter.”

 

The said male looked to Mark in confusion, as if trying to remember what he’d done before he ended up in Mark’s house. It made the older male flustered.

 

“S-sorry, you probably don’t even remember what I’m talking about,” Mark said all too quickly for his hands to shakily move to his words. He blushed, realizing he’d confused Jackson even further, “It’s just… you came in, grabbed a pack of, I believe, six energy drinks and I felt I should give it to you for a discount, y’know?”

 

“Shit,” Jackson cussed loudly. He moved his hands, ‘I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?’

 

Mark’s brain short-wired, repeating Jackson’s love confession like a broken record, whose only purpose was to drive him insane. His face flushed at the thought. He shook his head slightly, hoping to ward off any further questioning from Jackson, “You kinda just stumbled in and bought that,” he pointed to the topic of his previous dialog.

 

Jackson sighed audibly with relief written clear as can be on his face, while his cheeks carried a pinkish tinge. Mark excused himself, muttering it to himself rather than to Jackson. He felt his chest constrict as he threw his empty container into the trash can. He idled in the kitchen, trying to catch his breath. He laid his head against the cool metal of the refrigerator as he gulped down a cup of sink water. Mark wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor of his kitchen.

 

Mark got up shakily, his legs feeling more akin to the texture of jelly than of bones and muscle. He took in a deep breath, walking back into the main section of his house with a smile on his face. He muttered a soft sorry, despite knowing Jackson couldn’t hear him, “Jack. Do you want me to take you home?”

 

The younger male nodded, shaking his head afterward, ‘I mean, I don’t care all that much. I just want to be with you.’

 

Mark ran the words Jackson had told him via sign language through his head, his face flushing at the thought of it. He shook his head, as if to shake the words from his head, “Okay, then. What would you like to do now?”

 

Jackson shrugged, beckoning Mark to come closer. He wrapped his arms around Mark warmly. The slightly older male looked shocked, but didn’t move to push Jackson away.

 

Suddenly, a pair of lips hit his own. They extruded the scent and taste of alcohol and the sour tinge of vomit. It made Mark realize that the male was still drunk, despite looking much more sober than before. Mark shrinked away, his stomach sinking.

 

Mark felt terribly bad, especially wanting Jackson to remain in the position he was, almost on top of Mark.

 

He didn’t want to do anything bad to Jackson. He knew the man needed his privacy.

  


~~

  


Jackson had left without saying so, much like the similar instance where Mark had done the same thing.

 

Mark had to quell his anxieties over the man through a walk over to the bridge where he and Jackson almost always frequented. He flopped to the ground. Gracelessly, like a swan with a broken wing.

 

He’d woken up in a bad mood. When he’d woken up, his eyes refused to focus. He wondered if it was a heart attack or if he was going to die. Then pain flooded into his head, as if his blood had just rushed in. He ruled out the possibility that he was dying after a quick google search, realizing it was a migraine.

 

He decided to hang his arms over the side, dangling his hands over the water. He let his eyelids fall, and he listened. He listened to the flowing water of the stream. He’d hoped Jackson was by his side. He felt all too lonely, especially remembering his various memories of the deaf man.

 

Mark hadn’t failed to glaze over his attempt at his anime scene far earlier in the year. He pointed to himself, forward, then clasped his hands together; he sighed and cringed at his slightly younger self.

 

“I didn’t know you missed me that much,” A familiar smooth voice said in a crass manner.

 

Mark whipped his head around to see Jinyoung. He regretted it when the slight throbbing that still persisted from his migraine amplified. He mouthed a small “What the fuck?” and lifted an eyebrow.

 

“Okay, never mind, I didn’t know you hated me that much,” Jinyoung exuded confidence, something Mark desperately wished he had, “Anyway, don’t look so shocked. I go on walks from time to time, even if it were with Jaebum.”

 

The American male sucked up his pride from embarrassing himself and stood up, “Hey, Jinyoung,” Mark spoke softly.

 

“Where’s your boy toy?” Jinyoung asked, awfully casually for such a topic. Mark simple coughed and looked away from the younger male.

 

“I d-don’t know,” Mark answered, flushed in embarrassment.

 

“I’m teasing you,” Jinyoung stated in a matter-of-factly voice. His voice, which is naturally warm and smooth, couldn’t help but to sound dreadfully condescending to Mark. Jinyoung sighed, “Look, there actually _was_ something I’d wanted to talk to you about. And yes, it actually is about Jackson this time. While I don’t exactly have the inside knowledge on him, Jaebum’s been expressing a lot of worry about him and it’s pretty worrying, y’know?”

 

Mark nodded, but couldn’t find another way to respond, “I know, I know. I’ve asked him about it and he just dodged the topic,” he paused, debated whether or not to say what he knew about Jackson’s homesickness, and decided against saying it out loud.

 

“Yeah, Jaebum said Jackson would always have that same fake smile on his face that would crumble the moment he thought he was alone,” Jinyoung sounded so maternal at that moment that Mark wanted to break down in front of the man and tell the man his woes. He opted against it and decided to say something else.

 

“I feel bad for not noticing it before,” Mark whispered, his voice frail and small. He didn’t like how cold the air felt, “He came to the store I work at, drunk. But he either threw up or confessed his love to me.”

 

“I highly doubt it was that extreme,” Jinyoung caught on.

 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Mark muttered before continuing, “Yeah, but he actually did… did come to the store I work at… drunk.”

 

“Okay, we’ve established that. What happened?”

 

“Geez, y-you make it seem like he hit me or something like that,” Mark shook his head despite the pain pulsing through it, “No, but he came in, threw up then confessed his love for me.”

 

“You’re putting words in my mouth!” Jinyoung feigned shock. The small smirk he had on his face fell, “Anyway. Thanks for telling me.”

 

Mark smiled weakly, his naturally pale skin a more wan tone, “Please don't tell anyone I told you this.”

 

Jinyoung looked to Mark, his eyes scanning the older male carefully, “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, yeah, I’m fine. I just woke up with a migraine,” He paused, “And I forgot to take painkillers.”

 

“I have some, but… how about we pay our good friends Jackson and Jaebum a visit.”

 

Mark smiled, “Sure, let’s go.”

  


The pair of young men waltzed on over to the shared apartment of Jackson and his friends. Mark dazedly counted the numbers, quite unnecessarily seeing as he didn’t seem to remember Jackson’s room number. Jinyoung has silenced next to him, earbuds playing a surprisingly intense song which Mark guessed was either rock or metal.

 

Jinyoung stopped at a door right near the end of the maze-like hall, knocking on the door. At first, a careful and steady beat. They heard a loud groan and a thud. The two looked at each other in concern, and Jinyoung proceeded his knocking until Jaebum appeared, looking chipper and freshly woken.

 

“Jesus, Jinyoung?” Jaebum asked, clearly hesitating after noticing Mark’s company, “What the hell are you two doing here so early?”

 

“Wow, hello to you too.” Jinyoung exclaimed, his gesticulation wild.

 

“Jin, what do you need?” Jaebum shortened Jinyoung’s name oddly casually, though he seemed more alert than when he’d first opened the door.

 

“Alright, can you step out in the hall for a quick sec,” the youngest of the three dropped the niceties, or at least his door-to-door salesman façade and jumped straight to the point.

 

“Jeez, at least let me clean up a little.”

 

“Fine, fine, but if you don’t come out in five minutes, I’m coming in there and dragging you out,” Mark shuddered at Jinyoung’s oddly threatening tone. And did so with an even more quaking motion when Jinyoung’s voice turned painfully saccharine, “Love you.”

 

Jaebum looked stuck between peacefully retreating into the apartment or flipping Jinyoung off so hard the poor man would end up sprawled on the ground, seizing wildly. Ultimately, he backed away from the door, and came out seconds later.

 

The trio moved to the fire escape, carefully sitting on the dirty ground.

 

“Alrighty then, what the fuck did you two want to talk about?” Jaebum asked.

 

Jinyoung looked to the nearly silent American man, and took a backseat to the conversation, leaning against the wall of the fire escape. Mark let out a shaky sigh and spoke, “First, does Jackson tend to go out and not come back until the morning?”

 

“You mean like he did today and yesterday?” Jaebum asked carefully, only to get a curt nod from Mark, “He does it, like once or twice a month, but that’s not even including the times he came home before curfew drunk as all hell.”

 

Mark inhaled sharply, “Okay. Well he showed up—excuse my language— at my workplace piss drunk. Sure, he didn’t do anything too bad, but whatever the fuck would happen if he ended up stumbling through the streets at night?”

 

Jaebum’s back straightened, “Of course, that’s also a concern. What about his depression?”

 

Mark winced, “That, I can’t quite help. Sure, he exhibits all the common symptoms of… depression, but he closes himself off.”

 

“He does that, far too often for my liking,” Jaebum noted rhetorically.

 

“I don’t know if this helps, but he _did_ admit how homesick he was and just how self-conscious he is,” Mark muttered, his voice thick with emotion, “And I honestly don’t kno—”

 

“What the hell are you three doing?” A low voice growled out defensively.

 

The three young men looked up at the door and realized sitting three stairs down, right next to the open door of the fire escape, which was right by Jackson’s shared apartment, wasn’t too good of an idea.

 

“J-Jack!” Mark exclaimed, as if to remedy their conversation about said male.

 

“Why are you three sitting in this stupid, dingy little fire escape, just yapping your mouths off about me?” Jackson’s expression steeled.

 

“Jack—“ Jaebum attempted to reason, just to get cut off.

 

“No, Jaebum. I already told you I didn't need your help. Seriously, I thought you of all people would respect my privacy,” In response to Jackson's crass comment, Jaebum paled.

 

“I do. Jackson we’re here to help you, not harm you.”

 

“Yeah, if you did, you wouldn’t be here in this stupid ass tea party gossiping about me!” the Hong Kong native shook, his hands clenched at his sides.

 

“Jack, please,” Mark began just to cower immediately after Jackson’s smoldering glare landed on him. He paled nearly immediately.

 

Jackson faltered, his defensive posture relaxing just slightly. His hands were still in tightly curled fists, as if he were still holding on to the tattered shreds of his privacy. Jackson stilled, for no more than five seconds, before he tensed once more.

 

“Please, Mark. You’re the one who spilled the fucking beans about how small and lonely I feel. Honestly, I loved you. I still do, but I feel like I can’t really trust you,” Jackson’s voice broke, his voice uncharacteristically soft and vulnerable.

 

“No, Jack. I didn’t mea—“

 

“I’m going back to sleep, please just… don’t talk about me, so openly especially,” the Hong Kong native spoke in a now flat, deadpan tone. He retreated back into his apartment, the door quietly closing just as he closed himself off.

 

The trio didn’t speak. They stood still, as if to count the minutes after Jackson left. They all felt excruciatingly long, like the next minute might not arrive.

 

Jinyoung spoke first, “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to cause such harm.”

 

“No, Jin, you’re fine. You guys should go,” Jaebum directed his attention to Mark, “This is probably a shitty way to start off the day, but can you give me your number? I want to create a group chat for this shit.”

 

Mark nodded, reciting his number like a machine. His arms and legs had grown numb and tingly and all the while, the pain in his head seemed to only amplify.

  
  


Mark arrived home to a single text from a Jaebum, stating that the male had created the group chat.

 

The chat room went on radio silence for just five days until Jaebum texted again. It was just two words, short enough to seem frantic.

 

**"Jackson’s gone."**

 

Mark had never sprinted faster to the tall industrialized bridge he’d once almost ended his life on.

 

There Jackson was, his hair rustling to the direction of the wind. Jackson’s eyes went wide, just as he saw Mark run up. He was shivering, almost concerningly so. The corners of his lips were pulled down to a frown. He was sitting on the railing of the bridge, teetering just enough to almost fall.

 

“Hey,” Jackson whispered, his voice barely projecting even three feet in front of him.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
